Holiday Cheer
by StarstruckLily
Summary: [One-Shot] When Jack takes the newsies caroling on Christmas Eve, they all think he's crazy... only to discover that maybe all the world needs is a little holiday cheer.


Holiday Cheer

For some people, the holiday season was the best part of the year. Family from out of town came to visit, there was fantastic food, and whatever gifts could be afforded. But the holidays could be hard on others, and it was quite possible that the group they hit hardest was the newsies.

The coming season was heralded by the first frost. The mornings where they would wake up freezing and jump back into bed as soon as cold feet hit the colder floor became more and more frequent, to the point where they began sharing bunks to stay warm. Visits from friends in the other boroughs became nearly nonexistent, because the time needed outside to get to Manhattan was too dangerous. With limited winter clothing, if a newsie spent too much time outside, he got sick. With limited money, if a newsie got sick in winter, he died. That was just the way it worked.

The newsies could rarely find it in their hearts to express some holiday cheer. They were too cold, too tired, too hungry, too everything. They didn't have money for gifts for each other, not even for family or their significant others. They spent most of the month of December brooding or attempting to sell the headlines to customers anxious to get back inside to the warmth of their own dwellings.

Every year the borough leaders of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the Bronx would hold a meeting to try to think of a way to lift their newsies' spirits, but they could never think of anything. Parties cost money that the newsies didn't have, as did poker nights and dances at Irving Hall. So every year they met in vain, drowning their troubles for the time being in a few glasses of strong liquor that the Bronx leader, Flame, always seemed to be able to procure from somewhere.

Then one year, all of that changed.

"Where ya off to, Cowboy?"

Jack Kelly, or Cowboy as he was often called, turned slightly in the doorway in the lodging house to regard the girl he was proud to call his own.

"Just off to da meetin', Stagey, didn' I tell ya 'bout it?" The girls face dawned with comprehension as she nodded.

"Yeah, ya did. Just forgot, I guess." Jack smiled at the Irish lilt in her voice that never failed to amuse him. As his friend Spot Conlon had once said, 'She's even moah Irish den me!' Jack had hit him for that, but their friendship was too strong to die over something trivial like a black eye.

"I won' be out too late, Race wanted ta talk ta me 'bout somet'in', so I'll see ya den," The tall boy smiled and lightly brushed his lips over hers. One of her brown eyes winked at him.

"Lookin' forward to it, Cowboy."

Jack lightly jumped off the back of a trolley that had just crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, only to run almost directly into Flame. The redhead raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"Where ya off too, Cowboy?" Jack snickered as the tough-as-nails leader unknowingly echoed his girlfriend. "An' what da hell is so funny?"

"Stagey said da exact same t'ing befoah I left."

Flame's only response was to roll his eyes. Like essentially every newsie in New York, he found Jack and Stagey's relationship to be cute… almost too cute at times. They were nice enough people on their own, but put them together when one of them was in a romantic mood, and it took all the newsies under the age of ten running at them screaming "No! You'll get cooties!" to make them let go of each other… which generally made Jack so angry that someone had to give him a drink before he calmed down.

The two friends fell in step with each other as they made their way towards the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House… which, Jack noted, had 'And Newsgirls!' added to the sign in a rather familiar hand. Flame noticed where he was looking and raised an eyebrow.

"So she finally talked him inta it, huh?"

"Guess so…"

The grins in both boys' voices were unmistakable. For months Spot's girl, a sarcastic, stubborn Manhattan newsie by the name of Tigerlily, had been hounding him to let girls stay in the Brooklyn LH. He certainly had room, being that there was an entire third floor that no one used, but he was concerned about girls living with the rather rambunctious Brookys. She had disappeared a week ago to Brooklyn, not uncommon for her, and apparently her constant hounding had finally made Spot give in… meaning that he was up for teasing from his fellow leaders about letting his girl push him around… not that Jack could talk.

Flame, however, was something of an enigma to the newsies. His handsome features and position as a borough leader made him one of the most desired newsies in New York, but he had yet to have a girl past a few dates. The most serious relationship he had with a female was with his sister Pistol, whose boyfriend Roundhouse had to beg Flame for permission to date her before the relationship could take place. To spend more time with Roundhouse, and possibly to escape from the watchful eye of her protective older brother, Pistol had spent the last few days in Brooklyn as well.

"I jus' hope Stagey won' wanna go ta Brooklyn too…" Jack muttered worriedly to himself. Flame gave him an odd look.

"What would make her wanna do dat?"

"If both of her bes' frien's are livin' heah…" Flame snorted.

"Pistol ain' movin' ta Brooklyn. An' it ain' dat far ta walk for her ta visit anyways. Sides, she's scared of da Brookys, aint she?"

"Course she is. Everybody's scared of da Brookys!" A new voice, arrogant and proud, joined the conversation.

"I aint!" A female voice called from inside.

"Dat's cause ya crazy!" Spot called back inside to his girlfriend, before bounding down the stairs to spitshake with his fellow leaders. Jack and Flame shared a grin before turning to Spot.

"So, newsgoils, Conlon?" Flame snickered.

"I t'ought ya said dat while youse was leadah of Brooklyn dere wouldn' be any newsgoils," Jack chimed in.

"Yeah, I seem ta remembah ya sayin' dat…"

"But aftah all, I guess it ain' uncommon for da mighty Spot Conlon ta have his min' changed foah him…"

"By his goil!" They chimed in together. Spot didn't know if he should laugh or hit them, so he merely waved them into his Lodging House. Once inside he opened his mouth to ask them something but found himself speaking to thin air, for both had gone off to find their missing newsies. He knew Tigerlily wasn't in much trouble, other than maybe making Jacky-boy's precious Stagey worry, but Pistol was probably in for it. Having decided that, he went to go watch the argument and make sure it didn't get too out of hand.

"An' not a momen' too soon…" he muttered to himself as he found them on the third floor. Jack and Tigerlily had given up on their discussion and were watching Pistol and Flame argue with open amusement. Oddly enough, Roundhouse was nowhere to be seen, but given Flame's temper, that may have been a good thing. Smirking slightly, Spot made his way over to the other spectators and slipped an arm around one of them… that person raising an eyebrow at him with a rather odd expression on his face as he regarded his old friend.

"Look, Conlon, I know I'se handsome, but I'se gots Stagey. Why doncha try Flame?" Spot's only response was to laugh as his girlfriend rolled her eyes.

"Speakin' of Stagey, wheahs ya bettah half?" Tigerlily asked, poking him in the side. "I need ta talk ta her 'bout somet'in'."

"I didn' wan' her ta come, she's got a little bit of a cold… nothin' serious," he added hastily, seeing the slight panic appear on the girls face. "Just don' wan' it ta get any woise, dat's all."

The fight between Pistol and Flame was dying down, and Jack quickly seized the opportunity to start the meeting.

"So, anybody got new ideas foah how ta cheah everyone up?"

He was met with blank stares, then Spot started laughing.

"Good one, Jacky-boy. Youse know we don' get no ideas."

Jack sighed. "There's gotta be somet'in…" Lost in his thoughts, his mind wandered back to his newsies. When he'd left, Stagey had been attempting to help the young Boots with his singing by teaching him a song Jack didn't know, some sort of Christmas carol.

"That's it!"

His loud outburst drew stares from everyone in the room. Tigerlily and Spot were seated on a bunk, Roundhouse, who had slipped in without him noticing, was sitting on another with Pistol, who was pointedly annoying Flame's glare.

"We go carolin'!"

The room was filled with a sudden silence. Then Tigerlily spoke.

"Cowboy, that is the crazies' idea youse evah come up wid, includin' da time when youse was so drunk ya t'ought ya could fly off da roof."

"Yeah, Cowboy, Brookys don' sing!" Spot interjected.

"You do…"

"Shut up, Tigerlily."

"I don' t'ink it's such a bad idea," Pistol said, quickly stopping the argument. "'Sides, people t'row money at da one group dat sings by da Bridge. An' it'd be cute foah da little ones."

Jack smiled. "Well, dats one vote," he looked around the room. "Flame, wadya t'ink?"

The boy shrugged. "I'm wit' Tigerlily on dis one, ya crazy. It might be a good idea, but me newsies ain' gonna go for it."

"Neidah are mine," Spot agreed, until Tigerlily poked him in the side. "Alrigh', da goils migh' go…"

"An' you'll go wit' us," Tigerlily said firmly. He opened his mouth to argue but decided it would be better to just agree. Jack grinned broadly.

"So, Manhattan, Spot, Tigerlily an' da goils is gonna go carolin'!"

"What?" Racetrack cried, clearly thinking he hadn't heard his friend correctly.

"We're goin' carolin!"

"What da hell foah?!"

"Because I'm da leadah an' I said so. It'll help spread da holiday cheah."

"Not if we freeze ta death foist!"

"I t'ink it's a great idea!" Neither of them had to turn to identify the new voice as Stagey. Her Irish lilt for once wasn't what gave her away; it was her never-ending love of Christmas that told them it was she. Jack looped an arm around her shoulders before turning back to his other friend.

"Ya goin', Race, and dat's final. Now spread da woid dat we's all goin' carolin' tagedda on Christmas Eve. Bring ya goil if ya wan', I don' care. Conlon's comin' with da Brooklyn goils, Pistol's probly draggin' Roundhouse, an' I wouldn' be surprised if Flame showed up ta chaperone dem."

He half expected Race to argue more; he didn't really take advantage of his position as leader enough for the boys to always listen to him the way they listened to Spot and Flame; but to his surprise the Italian boy merely sighed and made his way up the stairs and into the bunkroom. Jack thought it was settled until nearly all of his newsies came bounding down the stairs. A few were exclaiming that it was a great idea; most were whining and declaring that they wouldn't go.

"Ya all goin'," Jack said firmly. "Or ya can sleep outside dat night."

With grumbles and promises that they would get him back for this one day, they reluctantly agreed to accompany him caroling on Christmas Eve.

The days of December passed quickly for the newsies. The weather was rather mild that year, and on the morning of December 24th it had yet to snow. Stagey was horribly disappointed; the rest of them were ecstatic. If Cowboy really meant to go through with his caroling expedition, they'd prefer not to get frostbite just before one of their few days off.

Sometime around four o'clock, newsies began trailing in from Brooklyn. Among the first to arrive were Spot and Tigerlily, shortly followed by Pistol and Roundhouse. Leaving the girls to gossip the boys discussed leadership matters, Roundhouse being Spot's unofficial second-in-command. By six o'clock all the newsies they expected had shown up and the sky had darkened.

Oddly enough, none of the Manhattan newsies had tried to sneak off. Maybe it was Jack's threat; maybe it was the sudden addition of the girls they had never seen before and considered to be fair game; maybe they really wanted to celebrate Christmas like normal people. Whatever it was, when Jack took a quick roll call before they started out, all of his newsies were present.

They made their way out into the crisp, cold night, only to discover something that made most of them groan but Stagey leap with joy; it was snowing. It wasn't snowing hard and must have just started, for there was barely a dusting of white on the ground, but it was snow all the same. Snipeshooter immediately made a snowball and threw it at Boots, but David, who was just walking up with Les and Sarah, saved the day by catching it before it hit anyone and caused an all out war.

The group meandered their way towards Central Park, where lovers traditionally walked beneath the moonlight to pass the hours on Christmas Eve. They walked until they came to a crossroad of paths before reaching a large group of people, where they assembled themselves into somewhat orderly lines. At a 'One, two, t'ree,' from Jack, they launched themselves into a rather harmonic rendition of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas," drawing the attention of several passerby. Some pressed coins into the hands of the younger newsies; others wished them a 'Merry Christmas' of their own; some simply smiled. The newsies sang together much longer than they realized, and longer even than Jack had expected, for when they walked to Tibby's for some food and hot chocolate to warm them up it was nearly nine thirty. They stayed in Tibby's for over an hour, laughing with a freedom and lack of fear or worry for tomorrow that they had every other night of the year. After singing a few more carols with the staff on duty that night, Mr. Tibby paid for their food and drink in a spurt of holiday cheer.

They made their way back to the Lodging House, no one talking; just reveling in the silence of the beautiful night that had made so many simple things apparent that had seemed complicated before. Couples walked entwined in each others' arms, a group of friends speaking without words. Though they had left their laughter in Tibby's they had not left their joy, and they spent the night bonding in the one thing that night they had in common; a need to believe that tomorrow could be better and that maybe, just maybe, their lives could be as joyful as the aristocrats that looked down on them every day.

And this revelation was brought on by a simple Christmas carol.

However, possibly the best moment for Jack came when Tigerlily tapped his shoulder to speak with him.

"I jus' wanted ta tell ya," she said, looking intently at Jack, "dat ya wasn' crazy. Dis is probly da best idea ya evah had.

"Yeah," Flame interjected from behind her, "An' I'll be bringin' me boys wid us nex' yeah."

Jack smiled the widest he had all night. Of all his friends Flame and Tigerlily were perhaps the most stubborn, so this emission from them was the best present either of them could have gotten for him. Uncharacteristically for him he didn't rub it in, choosing instead to nod his thanks and turn back to Stagey.

With Jack and Spot otherwise occupied, Flame found himself drifting throughout the group, until he was walking next to one of the girls that Tigerlily and Pistol had brought from Brooklyn. They had sat together at Tibby's only somewhat by accident, for he had heard his sister mention her before and was rather intrigued. The girl, Nightingale, was one of the sweetest, most beautiful people you would ever meet, with a lovely singing voice, but for some reason almost never spoke. He had seen as soon as she entered the Lodging House that she was indeed beautiful; he had heard during the caroling her lovely voice; and during their brief conversation at Tibby's had glimpsed the personality that had made her a part of his sister's fast growing circle of Brooklyn girls.

It was while he was walking next to her that he glanced down and saw her shivering, for she wasn't wearing a coat. He remembered the girls trading off jackets throughout the caroling, but it seemed now that they had either forgotten or she had made them stay warm themselves. He lightly shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. When the girl raised her eyebrows at him he merely raised his as well and helped her place her arms into the sleeves. She smiled and laced her fingers through his, and the two walked together the rest of the way to the Lodging House.

Jack and Spot stayed outside the doors to do a head count and make sure everyone got back safely, and they noticed Flame and Nightingale. Both smirked at their fellow leader, who merely rolled his eyes at them. It may have been one of the most pristine and meaningful nights of the year, but some things just didn't change.

The four of them entered the lobby of the Lodging House together, and as one their jaws dropped. Kloppman and Denton were standing in the lobby, which was complete with a decorated Christmas tree and a small gift for every newsie present. Ever since early December when the caroling date had been set, the two had been conspiring and searching through pawn shops, trying to find the perfect gift for each of them… and as the gifts were opened, it would seem they had succeeded.

They were small things, each of them, but much thought had been placed into the purchases because each gift was exactly what they would have picked out for themselves, had they the money. After a few questions it was discovered that Stagey had helped greatly with the selection of the gifts, especially for those of the Brookys. A quiet chorus of 'thank you' resounded around the small, tightly packed room; the three conspirators simply smiled and said "Merry Christmas, everyone."

Jack never found out later who started it, but at the purity of the voice he was guessing it was the girl whom Stagey had called Nightingale. Suddenly, in the quiet room, there came a voice singing "Silent Night." This confused him at first, for it was a song that most of them had never heard before and none of them knew; or so he thought. The girls from Brooklyn had apparently planned this, for they all sang it together in a simple purity that nearly brought tears to his eyes. When they began to sing it a second time, everyone else joined in as best they could.

Anyone walking by the Lodging House may have been confused; for on Duane Street that night, in the most dilapidated of buildings, there rose a hymn more heartfelt than one sung in any church or cathedral around the world. The simple act of celebrating the holiday together had made the day more joyously simple than any other day in the rest of their lives. Couples were born, friendships made, and each newsie as they left thanked Jack for his idea.

For in the silence of that beautiful night, their arose a generation of young men and women with a conviction that tomorrow could be a better day and that life was worth living, no matter how horrible it may seem at times.

And that, they realized, is what the holiday season was all about.

Of course, they walked away with more than just that realization that night. Many had received more substantial winter apparel as gifts, and they took advantage of the added warmth by visiting other boroughs to keep the new friendships strong. Tigerlily, Pistol, and Stagey often crossed the Bridge to visit each other, and Flame found himself being drawn more and more into Brooklyn as he pursued his relationship with Nightingale… which caused him to finally leave Pistol and Roundhouse alone.

Just as the clock began to chime midnight, Stagey saw Jack slip up onto the roof. She followed him up there, and found him looking at the stars with tears in his eyes. She slipped silently over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"Merry Christmas, Cowboy."

"Merry Christmas, Stagey."

And at that moment, for every newsie that had enjoyed the simple pleasure of caroling that night, one that most of them hadn't even wanted to experience… the world was perfect.

_-fin-_

Heheh, disclaimer! I don't own the newsies or the Christmas Carols mentioned, Stagey owns herself as well as the basic inspiration for the plot, and I own Tigerlily, Pistol, Flame, Nightingale, and Roundhouse.

Dedicated to: Stagey, for giving me the idea, and the NML, for keeping my love of writing and newsies alive! Also to Stagey for beta-reading it for me.

Happy holidays-

--Tigerlily--


End file.
